Post by max on Dec 2, 2009 11:06:45 GMT 10
Title: A Thousand Words
Rating: G
Prompt: Lies - #16
Summary: Seaver, practicing (and failing at) the art of creative honesty.
________________________________
Of all of them, she is the easiest to draw. That’s all.
Her soft brown hair (with its promise of waves, if she ever let it grow long enough to form them). Her dreamy green-gold eyes (less dreamy, now that they are grown, and she has seen more of the horrors this world offers its less god-touched). Her long, slender legs (perfect for clinging to Peachblossom when she charges into battle and pattern-dancing, glaive in hand, and running, all the way to Scanra, Yaman, Carthak, Galla, in the name of a loyalty too deep for anyone else to touch).
But giving Faleron the wrong sketch book to look through, he knows it isn’t much of an excuse, his expression changing from surprise to consternation to dismay as he flickers through leaf after leaf of Kel with her charges, Kel fighting, Kel still, Kel in gowns and plate armour, Kel’s eyes, her curled smiles, her lips like swollen grapes, her scarred, spidery hands.
Still.
‘I’ve been commissioned,’ he says, voice unconcerned as he retrieves the incriminating album from his friend’s hands, replacing it instead with his other one of Corus and Tasride and his last outpost in the North.
‘Congratulations,’ says Faleron, eventually, staring him down with his steady dark eyes, ‘It wouldn’t be right for one of us to treat Kel as anything less than a warrior, after all.’
But his grandmother was from the desert, and two can play at this dark-eyed game. ‘Of course,’ he replies, lightly. ‘Indeed, that is who she is.’
Kel the page, bettering them all. Kel the squire, growing into her own. Kel, the comrade-in-arms.
He isn’t in love with her, not in the way Cleon couldn’t speak for joy of her. He isn’t in love with her, will not be torn apart by the war between his unbending mind and oh so broken soul like Joren.
‘They’re just pictures,’ says Seaver, like a prayer. Hoping if he says it often enough, he’ll believe it too.
Rating: G
Prompt: Lies - #16
Summary: Seaver, practicing (and failing at) the art of creative honesty.
________________________________
Of all of them, she is the easiest to draw. That’s all.
Her soft brown hair (with its promise of waves, if she ever let it grow long enough to form them). Her dreamy green-gold eyes (less dreamy, now that they are grown, and she has seen more of the horrors this world offers its less god-touched). Her long, slender legs (perfect for clinging to Peachblossom when she charges into battle and pattern-dancing, glaive in hand, and running, all the way to Scanra, Yaman, Carthak, Galla, in the name of a loyalty too deep for anyone else to touch).
But giving Faleron the wrong sketch book to look through, he knows it isn’t much of an excuse, his expression changing from surprise to consternation to dismay as he flickers through leaf after leaf of Kel with her charges, Kel fighting, Kel still, Kel in gowns and plate armour, Kel’s eyes, her curled smiles, her lips like swollen grapes, her scarred, spidery hands.
Still.
‘I’ve been commissioned,’ he says, voice unconcerned as he retrieves the incriminating album from his friend’s hands, replacing it instead with his other one of Corus and Tasride and his last outpost in the North.
‘Congratulations,’ says Faleron, eventually, staring him down with his steady dark eyes, ‘It wouldn’t be right for one of us to treat Kel as anything less than a warrior, after all.’
But his grandmother was from the desert, and two can play at this dark-eyed game. ‘Of course,’ he replies, lightly. ‘Indeed, that is who she is.’
Kel the page, bettering them all. Kel the squire, growing into her own. Kel, the comrade-in-arms.
He isn’t in love with her, not in the way Cleon couldn’t speak for joy of her. He isn’t in love with her, will not be torn apart by the war between his unbending mind and oh so broken soul like Joren.
‘They’re just pictures,’ says Seaver, like a prayer. Hoping if he says it often enough, he’ll believe it too.
